


And Something Like Faith

by musicforswimming



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-19
Updated: 2009-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-02 08:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicforswimming/pseuds/musicforswimming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night passes, and Mary finds something to believe in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Something Like Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed ficlet written for an LJ prompt meme. Prompt was Mary Winchester, "prayer is a dangerous business", from Zillah. Title from Bruce Springsteen's "Devil's Arcade".

Mary never was much of one for religion, for all the trappings she wore. It could go either way with Hunters, from what she'd seen. Mom dragged them to church every week but it was always more to get a sense of who might be struggling with something a lot bigger than them, and probably having real nasty claws.

She buried Dad and Mom herself. John insisted on staying, after he tried to take her away from the house and she nearly clocked him for it. When it came down to it, though, Mary couldn't send him away, and she knew she owed him more than that besides, so she made him a drink and slipped a few herbs of Mom's into it. She lay in his arms until he was asleep, and then she kissed him and he didn't stir, and then she got out the shovel and the salt.

It was light by the time she was done, and she couldn't give them actual gravestones but she gave them each flowers instead, from the bulbs Mom kept in the garage until spring. Daffodils for Dad and tulips for Mom, and once another year went by, Mary told herself, they'd be beautiful.

When she was done, she couldn't think of anything to say, and just told them that she loved them. John was still out on the couch, but it should wear off soon, and she found that the shower she took to wash the sweat and the dirt and the night off of her did nothing to stop the shaking. No matter how hot she turned it, the night wasn't rinsing or melting off of her, out of her.

She turned the water off and there was a knock at the bathroom door, and John was asking her if she wanted coffee, offering to make pancakes if she wanted. Something twisted inside of her, hard, the first thing she'd felt since he'd fallen, neck twisted all wrong, at her feet. She didn't let go of his hand until they were in the kitchen and he was setting to work.

"I took care of it," she said, and he looked at her and asked did she mean she'd called someone, and she said yes, and they both knew it was a lie but she swore to herself, suddenly, that it was the last one she'd ever tell him.

That was likely a lie too, of course, but Mary didn't let herself think of that, she just busied herself finding cups for the coffee, and once they were sitting down on the couch, he leaned over and kissed her, gently, so gently, on the temple, and she put her coffee down, took his from him and put it down, and kissed him hard enough that she started to feel something inside of her again.

"You know I'll never let anything happen to you," she said, and this was not a lie. "Nothing," and she kissed him again, because the truth of it was burning her.

"Mary," he said when she took her lips away again, "we don't have to -- I mean, you've been through -- " Even after all of this, after she's lied and nearly got him killed, hell, after she did get him killed, but nearly made it stick -- after she dragged him down into this with her -- there was still this kindness in his eyes, fighting out the lust, and his voice was low with that lust and broken with that gentleness.

She would not tell him. The sun was rising and there was a chance, here, slim and weak-winged but fluttering. Mary kissed him again. His arms went around her waist, pulled her down on top of him as they both stretched out. "Nothing," she said again, and knew she had found a prayer she could believe in, "nothing's going to happen while I'm here."


End file.
